Mr. Rochester Complex

Last week I watched a very impressive film adaptation of Charlotte Brontë's "Jane Eyre."

After getting over the absurdity of Rochester's character--mainly how unconventionally emotional and moody he is for a grown man--I had actually started to feel as though I possess a certain likeness to Rochester. I am not referring to his somber demeanor or ill-temperedness, but rather how he inadvertently disappears from the world for days or weeks at a time without warning and without consequence. Oh how sometimes I long for that freedom to jump on a horse and ride off into the unknown, not knowing when I will return, and not feeling obligated to alert someone when I will leave again. I am envious of the way Rochester can disappear like that because it is so freeing to be able to just stop doing the ordinary and play hooky for a while.

Some people in my life can attest that I go through periods of time when I remove myself from activities and social gatherings and I become very aloof. I confess that I get a thrill out of this mild form of rebellion because I do not like being caged in by routine and the feeling of duty. I like to do the unexpected and avoid doing the predicted.


What I have discovered, however, is that Rochester is a deeply wounded individual. He is alone, with no one to ask him where he is going or when he will return.

I, on the other hand, have plenty of people who will ask me, "Where were you?" or "Are you coming?" There have been so many instances where I become irritated with this sort of attention. I think, "Can't you all just leave me alone?" But really, I don't believe deep in my heart that is what I truly want.

I know that each of us, no matter how confident we seem to be, are constantly asking ourselves, "Am I loved? Do people really like me?" The answer may be found differently for each person. For some it is how many text messages you have received in a day. It could be found in how many facebook friends you have. Or for a lot of us, I am sure that it can be answered in how often we get invited to weekend events. It is on those Friday and Saturday nights when we are sitting alone in our houses with our cell phone in hand when we begin to question how much we are loved--or if we are loved at all.

What I don't realize when I start to become annoyed with multiple text messages from my mom or only receiving phone calls from the same two people all of the time--is that each of these little attempts at communicating with me are coming from people who love me dearly. These are the people who lovingly await my return and desire my company. I need to recognize that with each text message, every phone call, and every other little commonplace conversation I have with them, each time they are sprinkling me with love. I am thankful that if I do choose to ride off into the sunset, I will have someone waiting for me when I return.